The Assignment
by kwarbler
Summary: What happens when Mr. Dig's assignment causes his students to look at themselves a little differently?
1. Good Ole Mr Dig

The Assignment 

by starcraze

(A/N) Yay! So, I'm going to start posting my second Lizzie fic. This one isn't too long, but I might have to explain a little bit. Basically, what it is is Mr. Dig gives an essay assignment in class and then each of the main characters has a chapter from their own POV. Lizzie, Gordo, Miranda, Tudge, Ethan and Kate are in the 9th grade and will each have a chapter where they talk about their lives and Mr. Dig's assignment. There really isn't much of a plot, just insights into the minds of the characters.

Also, this isn't really a romance fic, but it does allude to certain pairings. I'm not telling you what they are ahead of time, because I'm mean. Be warned: They are NOT your typical pairings.

I disclaim everything. I don't own anybody and don't want to.

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Chapter 1

It was a typical Monday at Hillridge High School. Mr. Dig walked into his classroom minutes before the bell to find his students, as usual, engaged in their own pursuits with their fellow classmates. Or more matter of factly, engaged in their own arguments and gripe fests with their fellow classmates.

To put it bluntly, not one of the students had even noticed he'd entered the room. Granted, he was shorter than a lot of them now, but he still wasn't invisible. Mr. Dig set his lesson plan down on his desk.

He wasn't about to interrupt them just yet. The bell hadn't rung and none were causing any major disturbances that required teacher intervention.

Mr. Dig sat in his chair, hands folded behind his head, and watched his favorite ninth graders in action.

"Gordo, how dare you call me shallow. I am _NOT _shallow", Lizzie McGuire was saying defensively to the young Mr. Gordon.

"Lizzie...did you or did you not just tell me you couldn't go to the spring dance with me because your mom won't buy you the expensive dress you want?"

"It's not that simple Gordo", Lizzie whined. "If I wear anything I've already worn to a dance, Kate will rag on me for at least a week."

Gordo rolled his eyes. "So what? She rags on you. What's the big deal? Why do you care so much what. . ."

"Other people think", Lizzie cut him off. "I know the lecture. I've heard it all my life from you." She folded her arms across her chest and lowered her voice. "Too bad you don't follow your own advice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gordo asked in disbelief at her insinuation.

"Nothing. You just wouldn't understand."

Directly across from them, Kate Saunders and Miranda Sanchez were squaring off, hands on hips. This was a daily occurrence.

"If I find out you were the one who told Mr. Young I cheated on that quiz, you might as well wish you'd never been born", Miranda was saying to the girl who had a clear height and size advantage over her.

Kate looked at her innocently. "Why Miranda? Why would I do something like that?"

"Cause you're a witch", Miranda finished triumphantly. "And it gives you great joy to bring other people down. Especially since you know as well as I that you cheated on the same said quiz", she said grinning wickedly. "It sure would be a shame if Mr. Young just happened to find out."

Kate put her hand in Miranda's face. "Don't threaten me Sanchez. I own you and I don't waste my time on losers." Kate backed up and looked Miranda up and down. "Especially not ones that dress like circus freaks."

Miranda took a step towards Kate, temper boiling, but then thought better of it. She took a deep breath to restore calm to her body. She went back to her own seat never letting Kate out of her sight. "Don't worry. This is far from over", she announced.

On the other side of the room, the popular kids Ethan Craft and Danny Kessler were heavily involved in a discussion with Claire Miller and a few other girls from the in-crowd. Larry Tudgeman and Veruca Johnson were sitting directly behind them.

"Yo, you girls should totally check out my swim meet after school", Ethan was saying to the group.

Claire giggled as did the other girls--except Veruca "Sure Ethan. Of course we'll be there. We gotta cheer you on to victory, right?"

"Hey girls", Larry Tudgeman interrupted. "If you want to check out something _really_ cool you should come to the debate meet after school. Today's topic is animal testing-- makeup, pharmecuticals, stuff like that. Should be a doozy", he said grinning wildly like a little kid whose birthday came early this year.

Claire rolled her eyes and tossed her hair. "Only nerds do debate club."

Danny laughed. "Well, well, well—Tudge is _definitely_ a nerd, so no problems there.

Ethan looked hurt. "Yo, why do you got to be like that? Let him be. I like debate club too", he protested. "I'd totally go if I didn't have my meet."

"But you're not like _them_", Danny laughed, nodding his head in Larry and Veruca's direction.

Veruca glared at Larry. "I don't know why you even bother."

Larry shrugged and looked away. He opened his social studies book. "No big deal Veruca. Just drop it."

Veruca didn't drop it. "They treat you like crap and you keep going back."

"I said drop it okay", Larry said forcefully. "I've got work to do."

The bell rang for the start of class.

"People", Mr. Dig boomed out. "Be seated."

After two years as the resident substitute at Hillridge Junior High, he'd finally gotten a full time job teaching 9th grade Social Studies at Hillridge High. This also meant he was teaching the same kids for the third year in a row.

They were pretty good kids, but their fighting and bickering could wear even the most dedicated teacher down.

At fifteen, most were just starting to figure out or get a clue as to who they were as individuals, something he generally encouraged, but lately it had been taking its toll.

"Take out your Social Studies books and open to page 109. We're going to continue or lesson on Southeast Asia."

While most of the students had followed his instructions, several were still focused on their earlier battles.

Kate balled up a piece of notebook paper and chucked it in Miranda's direction causing Miranda to send her a death glare and a few choice words that one could only assume were some sort of Spanish curse words. Next to her, Lizzie and Gordo furiously passed notes back and forth trying to resolve their earlier disagreement to no avail. Further back, Danny worked on perfecting his spitball collection--his favorite pastime, and shot them at Larry and Veruca, who were doing their best to desperately ignore him. And this was just the tip of the iceburg.

It was obvious he had no control over his class today.

"_ENOUGH!",_ Mr. Dig yelled out louder than intended. "Pay attention. Close your books. We have a change of plans."

The class looked up suddenly, not used to hearing his raised voice.

Seeing that he had their attention, Mr. Dig smiled and lowered his voice to its normal level. "I have something a little different for today. A writing assignment, it's not exactly social studies, but I am the teacher so what I say goes."

"Is this some sort of stealth pop quiz?" Lizzie asked nervously.

"No Ms. McGuire", he assured. "It's more of a character study. It's something I want you all to think long and hard about. If you could be anyone else in this room for a day, week, whatever...who would you be and why? And in talking about them and why you picked them, I want you to tell me a little about yourself."

The class groaned collectively. You could always count on Mr. Dig for an unorthodox assignment. "Uh, Mr. Dig? We have to choose someone in _this _room?" Kate asked looking around warily.

"No. If you're truly comfortable with yourself you can write about that, but I doubt most of you will exercise that option. Otherwise it has to be one of your classmates."

Larry raised his hand. "Is this for a grade?"

"No, no grades", Mr. Dig informed them. "There are more important things than grades sometimes."

"Way to go professor!", Ethan exclaimed excitedly giving him a thumbs up.

Mr. Dig sat on his desk and looked directly at his students. "Well, what I want instead is honesty. Write an essay detailing your choice and reasons." He smiled knowingly. "I think some of your answers might surprise you."

"No offense", Claire pointed out. "But everyone is just going to pick someone popular", she said smiling smugly.

"Not all of us dream in life to be stuck up cheerleaders", Miranda loudly pointed out.

Kate looked at Mr. Dig. "Can you contain her? Do you see what I have to put up with?" she said, eyes locking with Miranda's.

"She's right you know", Larry agreed. "Claire, you should really get over yourself."

Mr. Dig cleared his throat, regaining their attention. "I wouldn't worry about it Ms. Miller. The answers are generally far from generic. But there are two rules. Write the essay in the first person so as not to include your name and no bad mouthing or saying negative things about anybody in this room. Agreed?" he asked.

"Agreed", the class mumbled back.

"Good", Mr. Dig nodded. "So get to it."

The class turned to their empty notebooks and sat quietly.

Lizzie raised her hand tentatively. "Are we going to have to share these with the class? You know, read them out loud?"

It was obvious that the thought hadn't occurred to many of his students and it was amusing to see their deer stuck in headlights expressions as they realized the possibility of having to "open up" in front of the class.

"That depends", Mr. Dig said hoping to calm them down. "You have options. After I'm satisfied with your work it will be up to you. For the brave souls who don't mind a little humiliation, you will read your essays for the class."

Noticing the lack of response, he quickly moved on. "But a more popular choice I believe will be to have me read your essays to the class, no authors' names included."

"But without names we can still tell who wrote what", Miranda noted.

"That's up to you", Mr. Dig said. "The more you write about yourself, the more likely your peers will be able to figure you out. That's a risk you will have to face."

The room fell silent and Mr. Dig returned to his seat to grade some papers. He chuckled to himself as his students glared at their empty notebooks questioningly, eyes darting around the room covertly.

He knew the thoughts of terror that must be running through some of their heads. He remembered all too well what it was like to be their age, the fears and confusion. But these guys would come around. They always did. He just needed to give them a little nudge to get them started in the right direction.


	2. Ethan's POV

The Assignment 

Brief A/N-The next six chapters are all POV chapters from each of the major characters. It is all written in the present tense.

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Chapter 2- Ethan's POV

Mr. Dig is the coolest. No kidding. I love teachers that make you think about stuff and give assignments for no grades.

I have nothing against school. It's just not really my thing. But at least Mr. Dig tries to liven it up, you know, keep things interesting.

I'm not too bright. Everyone in school can tell you that. I've heard lots of dumb jokes in my time, especially from my so-called best buds. Things like, "How many Crafts does it take to screw in a light bulb?" That's one of the favorites. My family doesn't have the greatest rep around town I guess you could say. My new stepmom makes me look like a brain surgeon.

I look around at my friends. I guess I'm considered a jock cause I play sports and stuff. It's not too big of a deal. I'm good at it, unlike school.

It'd be cool to be smart and have the last laugh all the time. Not smart in a stuck up way, but kinda like Gordon. . . Gordo, whatever he's called these days. He's one of those guys who seems to know everything about everything without really rubbing it in your face all smug like. He's not a jock or a nerd. He plays sports sometimes and he does the whole school thing.

He's just Gordon. That's who I'll write about. Yeah, that makes sense. I scribble stuff in my notebook as things pop into my head. Hmmm, what's cool about the little man?

He has interesting hobbies for one. He's always filming stuff with his video camera and knows tons about old movies, directors and movie stars. I've gotten to see a few of his films and he's got mad skills. He wants to be a director one day and I'll bet he makes it. Heck, I'd pay ten bucks to see his films.

I love movies, especially those old black and white detective ones. Gordon is the only one I can talk to about that stuff and doesn't think I'm too weird. Danny only ever wants to see those big action movies where everything blows up and there's like no story. Kate and Claire only want to see those weepy chick flicks. I like the classics.

Another thing I've noticed about Gordon is that he's always thinking about something. His mind is always going, even when he's in the middle of talking about something. It's like if you look at him hard enough you can see the wheels actually turning in his head. Not that there are really wheels in his head. It's just an expression. It would be kinda cool if there were though.

I'm a straightforward dude. What's going on in my head usually comes flying out of my mouth, whether it should or not. It'd be tight to be sort of deep and mysterious like. Gordon has all these layers to him. You can tell that usually when he says something, there's a lot more on his mind that he really wants to say but holds back.

Plus the ladies all love him. I've heard the cheerleaders talk about him. They think he's cute and perfect boyfriend material, not like me.

I'm good with the ladies, but it's different. Girls don't trust me too much and their parents even less. Just cause I'm a jock and a big fan of the female form, they always think I'm gonna take advantage of them and press the situation.

I'm not. I'm not like that. I would never hurt a woman. My family might not be smart, but I wasn't raised like that. If a woman says no, that's what it means. I think I'm a respectful kind of guy----most of the time. I guess it goes with the rep.

The ladies like Gordon cause they think he's sweet, sensitive, smart and about a zillion other things. Parents think he's trustworthy and reliable. I even heard Kate call him "the perfect guy" once, but she was talking to herself and doesn't know I heard her. Plus, his two best buds are girls and they like him well enough, so it has to mean something, right?

Girls like me too. I go on lots of dates. Not to sound conceited, but usually it's cause girls think I'm hot or they need a popularity fix. That's what I am to them.

I've never had a proper girlfriend. I hook up at parties and dances, fool around on dates, but that's it. Would you believe I've never gone on more than four dates with the same girl? I've tried.

Right now Gordon is dating Lizzie, one of his best friends. Lizzie's great. She used to have a thing for me, and she asked me out, but I blew her off cause I'm stupid. I told her we should just be friends cause I was trying to get with Rhonda, this hot cheerleader, at the time. Dumb move. Rhonda has zero personality and even less brains than my stepmother. Lizzie's hot and has a personality.

Lizzie moved on. I don't know if her and Gordon will work out, but that's how a real relationship is supposed to work. Dating your best friend. Now that's cool.

My eyes zone out forcing me to look away from my paper. My hand needs a break. I'm not used to writing so much so fast. Only for Mr. Dig.

At least lunch is next. I could totally go for a slice of pizza, extra cheese and pepperoni. I swear my brain only has two switches, food and girls.

Speaking of girls, this class has some fine specimens of womanhood. Especially Miranda, Lizzie and Gordo's other best friend. I've had my eye on her lately. She's cute, spunky and a pretty cool chick to hang around with. She's got a temper, but if you stay on her good side it's okay.

I look over to her. She's smiling to herself for whatever reason. She has a nice smile. Today she has on plaid pants and a shirt that says "Problem Child" in red letters across the front.

That's something I don't get. Girls always wear those shirts with sayings written across their chests. Obviously they are there to be read, but then the ladies get all mad when I stare at their chests too long trying to read them. Can I help it if I'm a slow reader?

I shift my gaze over to Gordo. Even now he is completely gone, his brain a million miles off. Did his brain ever shut off? He probably thought more while he slept than I did during an entire day, hell an entire week.

I guess what gets me the most about Gordon is that he's respected. His peeps respect him. They want to hang with him and hear his opinions on important matters, you know, listen to him. No one asks me for my opinion, except on maybe sports.

I have opinions and thoughts and ideas. They might not be as intelligent as Gordon's over there, but it would be cool if I ever got to share them with anyone.

People take Gordo seriously. It gets lonely being a joke a lot of the time.

I want to ask Miranda out, but I'm scared. Me, scared. That's a laugh. Ethan Craft doesn't get scared around the ladies. But like, what if she thinks of me what everyone else does? Gordon _is_ her best friend and he's super smart, so talking to me instead would be kind of a let down.

Miranda totally catches me looking at her. I give her one of my special Ethan looks. She smiles and turns back to her paper.

I look down at my own barely legible paper. That's it. I write my apologies to Mr. Dig on it, but I have nothing left to write. It's not like we're getting grades.

If I know Mr. Dig he just wants to make us kids think a bit. A character growth kind of thing to help us learn a little bit about ourselves without lecturing us like most of our other profs would. See, I'm not so dumb after all. I catch on.

The bell rings. I hand in my paper and saunter out of the room. My stomach rumbles.

I pass Miranda, Gordo and Lizzie on the way to their lockers.

"Pretty cool class guys", I say to them.

"Yeah", Lizzie answers quickly looking nervous. Gordon remains silent, again brain working overtime.

Miranda's the only one who appears to be acting normal. "Pretty cool", she agrees, giving her friends odd looks.

My stomach rumbles again. I've got to get something to eat.

"See ya later", I tell her.

"Yeah, later", Miranda calls after me as I go to leave, but she's not looking at me. Her eyes are focused on Lizzie and Gordo.

I sigh. Sometimes Gordon doesn't know how good he has it.


	3. Miranda's POV

The Assignment 

Chapter 3- Miranda's POV

What is up with Lizzie and Gordo? We left class like normal and they are acting extremely weird, even for them.

It could just be me, but everyone in class was majorly stressing over Mr. Dig's little class project. I mean, c'mon people. . .it's not that hard. It just requires a little honesty.

Honesty. Well I guess for high schoolers that's a difficult concept to grasp, but I believe in saying what you feel.

For me it was easy.

I finger the combination of my locker slowly.

Everyone in class and I mean everyone looked half crazed looking around the room to make sure nobody could see what they were writing about, like they were guarding state secrets or something.

I guess some people have a lot of stuff to hide. I swear even Kate looked like she was in major agony back there.

I put my books in my locker and gather my books for the afternoon. Maybe I misunderstood the assignment. What was there to misunderstand? If you could be someone else, who would you be?

Easy. Lizzie. Always Lizzie. It's not like the first time the topic has ever entered my mind.

But at least now I could use the opportunity to read my essay to the class and force Lizzie to hear some stuff that she needs to hear once and for all. Stuff that I've been trying to get through to her for a real long time.

I don't care so much about getting up in front of the class and revealing myself. Lizzie's my best friend and what I had to say was probably what people would expect of me anyway. I've been in Lizzie's shadow most of my life. It wouldn't exactly be a shocking revelation.

When we were little, we always dressed alike. We'd get our moms to buy us matching outfits and we'd plan when to wear them and how to fix our hair. Then we'd spend hours trying to convince people we were twins.

Of course no one ever believed us. We couldn't look more different. Finally we gave up and told people that one of us was adopted. If we were out with my parents Lizzie was adopted and vice versa when we were with the McGuires.

We were always together. Joined at the hip.

By the time sixth grade started I was tired of being the invisible twin. Lizzie always stood out and got noticed. It just happened that way with her blonde blonde hair, enormous big blue eyes and innocent smile. She just shined.

Often I was known as Lizzie's best friend or that little dark haired girl. I wasn't really jealous. I loved Lizzie. It wasn't intentional.

That's when my style changed and I started experimenting with different looks and hairstyles. It was my way of making a name for myself as Miranda and not Lizzie's sidekick. She understood.

But this isn't about me. It's about Lizzie. Lizzie insists that she's ordinary and plain, nothing special. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Even if you can't put your finger on it, there is something special about her. When she smiles, she has the power to melt anyone's heart. It's just she's blind to what the rest of us see in her.

She's good and kindhearted and pure. That's her role in our little threesome. Gordo is the smart sensible one. Lizzie is our conscience and heart. Me, I add a little spice and excitement to the group. I'm there to keep it all interesting.

Lizzie and Gordo are busy talking at his locker. Probably boyfriend/girlfriend stuff and none of my business. I continue to take my time, maybe they'll work their weirdness out.

I search through my book bag pretending to be looking for something.

It's like Lizzie is completely and utterly oblivious half the time. She always seems to be on a never-ending quest for popularity. She is jealous of Kate, our former friend. A few years ago she went so far as to try out for cheerleading. That ended badly.

All Lizzie wants is to be liked. What she doesn't realize, no matter how many times I tell her, is that she is popular. Not in the cheerleader way, but everybody likes her. She's probably the most well liked person in all of Hillridge's freshman class.

Girls don't want to be nasty and vicious like Kate and Claire. They want to be nice and sweet like Lizzie.

Girls want to be her friend. She's a good friend, I should know. Girls ask her for advice and go to her to for a shoulder to lean on. She listens to their problems without judgment.

The guys all think she's gorgeous, which she is, and want to date her. The girl next door that you can bring home to Mom. The type of girl that guys want to marry and make happy for the rest of their lives.

She's fun, generous and spirited.

It's just frustrating she never notices that the one thing that she's always wanted so badly, she's already got.

Lizzie's definitely not perfect. She's a known klutz, lacks self-confidence and like I already said, is often oblivious to the most obvious things.

I mean, c'mon...it took her like two years to realize that Gordo, her own best friend, had a crush on her. And if the rest of us hadn't pushed, she might never have realized. But it's all part of what makes her so perfectly Lizzie.

But her goodness far outweighs her faults. Like the fact that she's always willing to see the good in people, even when they don't deserve it. She has a forgiving heart. I can't count the number of times she's helped Kate with problems when Kate would never do the same in return. In the end Kate turns her back on Lizzie, the one person who desperately tries to see some good in her and overlook her wretchedness.

I have a hard time with forgiving. As Gordo likes to tell me, I'm too stubborn for my own good. That's the truth. If someone hurts me, I want to hurt them back. I want revenge. Not a perfect system, but it's worked for me so far. Lizzie forgives.

Lizzie as my mom says, sees the world through rose-colored glasses. To her the world is a beautiful and kind place. She wants to help and make everything better for everyone. She's the first to sign up for any volunteer project or community service event.

My problem is I'm too cynical. Not as bad as Gordo, but I'm far from being an eternal optimist. I wish I was, but I tend to see the ugliness that exists in the world alongside the beauty.

It's hard to escape the ugliness sometimes. It's easier to see. I want to help like Lizzie. I don't think my contributions make a difference.

Lizzie and Gordo have stopped talking, but they both still look weird. I wonder if they're going to break up. They've both been tense lately, though today was by far the worst.

But on a positive note I could swear that Ethan was staring at me during class. It's like when you can feel someone watching you but you can't look back. The strangeness never ends, but that strangeness I don't mind.

Gordo walks off towards the cafeteria. Lizzie meets me at my locker. It's hard being stuck in the middle of their drama when they're both your best friends.

"You okay?" I ask Lizzie.

"Sure", she brushes me off quickly. "Just tired."

I nod in response.

"Promise me you'll always be there for me?" Lizzie asks hesitantly.

I give her my confused look, but decide not to question her now. "Of course. I'm always here for you", I tell her.

It's the truth. I am.


	4. Gordo's POV

The Assignment 

Chapter 4- Gordo's POV

Lunchtime is my favorite part of the day even if the food in our cafeteria does by definition suck. I eat it anyway. I have been known to eat almost anything if I'm hungry enough.

That's not why I like it. Don't tell Lizzie and Miranda or it'll go straight to their heads, but I like spending time with my best friends. Listening to them yap on and on endlessly about boys, clothes, or some other shallow topic they have deemed worthy for lunchtime discussion. It cracks me up how they never seem to ever run out of words.

I pretend like I hate it to save my image, but as far as friends go I could do a whole lot worse.

I also like to people watch. That's a big hobby of mine. And in a place like high school where people are so naturally two faced, it can be extremely entertaining and enlightening.

It's probably that I've just spent way too much time with my shrink parents over the years, but what can you do. They've rubbed off on me more than I care to admit. Reading endless piles and piles of your parent's case studies at a young age is not a good idea.

Mostly though, I watch Kate. I don't know why, but in the past year or so it's almost become sort of a weird obsession of me. I don't stalk her and I'm not in love with her, but she piques my adolescent interest. I can't help it. I'm a guy.

This is of course something I've never told Lizzie and Miranda, something I can't tell the two practically most important people in my life.

I keep secrets from my best friend and girlfriend. What does that say about me? I guess that makes me as two-faced as the rest of the herd, but there's a lot I don't tell them. They tell me practically everything, usually in far greater detail than I need.

I can't tell Miranda about Kate because she wouldn't understand. Her and Kate are mortal enemies and besides, she'd tell Lizzie. It's part of the unwritten girl code.

Lizzie can't find out, well because it would hurt her and that's the last thing I ever want to do. She'd take it personally and think that meant I care less about her. Being interested in someone doesn't make you appreciate someone else less.

Lizzie and I have been dating on and off all year. I love her more than anybody. She's my angel and an amazing girlfriend.

But sometimes I wonder if I date Lizzie because I want to or because we're supposed to. All our lives our parents have ingrained it into our heads that we belong together, we will be together. So has Miranda. Hell, even Miranda's parents have gotten in on the act.

It's some sort of elaborate brainwashing scheme. It's like our family and friends have decided our own fate without consulting us on the details. I wouldn't be surprised if they've already planned our wedding for us.

It makes me want to scream sometimes. I'm only fifteen, but everywhere we go people comment on Lizzie and me. They call us words like _cute_, _adorable_, _destined_ and my absolute favorite, _precious_. _Precious_. I am not precious nor do I want to be precious.

As much as I love her as a person, I'm not sure I'm in love with her as a girlfriend. It's hard to tell. There are way too many other people involved in our relationship.

I sit at our usual table with my tray of unrecognizable gunk to find Lizzie and Miranda still aren't there.

I spot Kate across the courtyard looking particularly nervous and agitated. She doesn't think anyone sees her, but I always do. I manage to capture and see her at those times when she drops the haughty smug "I'm better than you are" look she carries most of the time, particularly when surrounded by her cheerleader posse.

Kate's a lot deeper than people give her credit for. I've always known that. We did used to be friends.

As popular and shallow as she comes across, that's not the real Kate. There's trouble that lurks within her, a darker side hidden under the caked on makeup and designer clothes.

We don't talk much anymore, but there's a part of me that can relate to her more than my own friends. The secretive part of me.

When Mr. Dig gave that assignment I immediately found myself thinking about Kate. I want to know what it is like to be her and see things in her head. To see what she goes through. That's who I wrote about. Kate.

I could sense Lizzie eyeing me strangely as I wrote fervently and passionately, filling up my college-ruled notebook pages. I'm sure she was wondering what or rather whom I could be writing so much about. There is no way she'd ever guess.

Lizzie sits down at the table across from me, Miranda right behind her. They are strangely quiet. I thought for sure Miranda would have at least asked me about my essay by now. She's the direct one.

We eat practically in silence, save a little small talk about nothing of importance. I know Lizzie is upset. She hasn't told me so directly, but I can see right through her half-hearted smile. I don't know why. We have made up since our stupid argument in class.

I do have to hand it to Mr. Dig. He does find ways to make us look at ourselves, which leads me to wonder what exactly Lizzie and Miranda had written to keep them so oddly preoccupied.

Kate is finally joined by Claire, Danny, Ethan and some others.

I remember back to when we all were friends. One time in particular. We were in the third grade and Kate had just found out her mom was getting remarried to some sleaze she'd picked up while drunk at a bar. The sleaze had gotten Kate's mom knocked up and the sleaze had informed Kate that if it was up to him she would be sent to boarding school as soon as possible. She was in the way at home.

I had found Kate crying on the playground. She didn't want to tell Lizzie and Miranda what was wrong because they both have the kind of perfect families that you only see on TV. The kind where nobody ever fights and when they do the biggest arguments are over who will take out the trash or pick up the dry cleaning. You got to love the boring predictability of suburban life.

Kate was embarrassed by her own family's lack of perfection. She confided in me while she cried.

I could sort of relate. Being my parents are shrinks, they have always believed that it's necessary to tell me everything about their marriage. All their problems to the most minute detail. Let's just say, I know things about my folks no fifteen year old should.

But that's irrelevant right now. Kate trusted me to see her at her worst, something that even in third grade didn't come easily for her. No one knew.

Only I know that for her popularity is a comfort blanket of acceptance. She needs to fit in and be in control to make up for a rotten home life where she never fits in or hardly feels needed. Hardly feels loved.

A place where her father ran off from before she could walk without so much as even a backwards glance. A place where her mother is too busy screwing guys and getting face lifts every other week to notice a damn thing. It's truly a Lifetime movie of the week. Kate should be messed up a whole lot more than she is.

If it wasn't for her tremendous inner strength she would be. I haven't seen her cry since that day in third grade. She steels herself not to.

But Kate needs popularity the way I need my movie camera. It's part of me, part of who I am, an extension of myself. Popularity is part of Kate and always was to some extent. She uses it to feel whole. Same with me and the camera.

I can understand and accept that about her even if she takes her power trips too far and tortures those who don't deserve it.

I used to make fun of Kate, but now I don't. I can't bring myself to. Every now and then I catch her eye and through the steel she gives me a hint of that former smile I used to know almost as well as Lizzie and Miranda's own.

Kate is smart and beautiful. Sometimes I want to tell her that, to remind her, but she'd take it the wrong way and think I was coming on to her. Then she'd save face by insulting me and cutting me back down to size. Plus there's that whole Lizzie relationship thing again.

Mr. Dig has the right idea though. One day in the life of Kate Saunders. I can just think of the film now. It could be my Oscar winner, a real eye opener for the viewing public. It'll never happen. Kate would never let it happen.

Lizzie's gaze burns my cheek as I stare at the popular table. Of course Lizzie thinks I'm glaring at Ethan, still upset over her former crush on him. I'm long over that, beyond caring.

Kate picks at her food, not talking, something upsetting her. She doesn't even rag on Larry when he accidentally bumps her with his lunch tray as he walks by. Larry is one of her favorite targets.

I turn back to my own table only this time to find Miranda doing the staring. At me.

"What?" I ask her. "Do I have food on my face?"

"No", Miranda says studying me carefully. "I asked about the social studies assignment", her eyes following my own and checking out the popular table. "Who'd you write about?"

I have to be careful. Miranda is observant when she wants to be. She knows I'm up to something even if she doesn't know what.

I try to stare Miranda down. "Uhh, Tudgeman", I lie. "I wrote about Larry Tudgeman."

Miranda continues to glare at me. "Seriously?" she asks with a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"There's nothing wrong with Tudgeman", Lizzie shoots back quite loudly and defensively, causing our gazes to turn to her instead. It's the first time she's spoken in the past twenty minutes. She lowers her voice. "I just meant he's a good guy who doesn't deserve to be picked on."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with him", Miranda answers. "I was just shocked, that's all."

"What about you Miranda? What did you write?" I ask her.

She smiles. "You'll find out soon enough", she sing songs, but my mind was already elsewhere tuning her out.

I hope Kate is okay. She couldn't be thinking about this whole Mr. Dig thing, could she? What exactly had she done and why the hell did I care so much? I should be worried about what is bothering Lizzie.

But Lizzie has Miranda. Who does Kate have?

I watch Kate clear her still untouched tray and rush off in the direction of the girl's bathroom without so much as a word to her friends.

They are too busy to notice. It's not like they care.

I finish my lunch without any major developments. I need to get a new hobby.


	5. Kate's POV

The Assignment 

Kate's POV

I run into the girl's bathroom. There are about twenty minutes left of lunch, but I can't sit at that table anymore and listen to my friends gush about the damn social studies assignment and how they all wrote about themselves and their happy little shallow lives.

I knew Claire would. I could tell by the way she was happily hunched over her paper during class, writing away without a care in the world, smirking at all those less fortunate people around her.

That's what I meant to do, what I wanted to do, but I couldn't make myself do.

I check my make-up and hair in the mirror. Fortunately, the bathroom is empty. I can remove my façade.

Claire is honestly convinced that everyone in class, or the girls at least, had written about her. She really believes everyone wants to be like her. She is that conceited and stuck-up for real.

She isn't a fake like me, hiding behind a series of masks. I know better. No one wants to be like me. Why should they? I don't.

I need to get my paper back from Mr. Dig. If what I did gets out I'll be ruined at this school. Beyond ruined. Life changing ruined.

I, Kate Saunders, had lowered myself to write about one of the little nothings at this school. One of the lowlife freaks.

I'd be a complete laughing stock, my perfect image wiped away forever... if _they_ found out that I'd written about of all people, ugh. . .the one person I truly hate...Miranda Sanchez.

I hate Miranda. Miranda hates me. It's a known fact. I don't know what possessed me to choose her.

That's a lie. I do know. It all comes back to my issues with perfection.

I have to be perfect all the time. I can never say the wrong thing, wear the wrong thing, talk to the wrong people. I can never be out of step. I must fit in and be like the other lemmings. I must watch my back, look over my own shoulder, keep in line. I must guard myself.

I let down my guard today.

I'm a lemming like the rest. Being popular and in charge doesn't make you less of one, just the leader of the pack.

I despise people that can just say what they want or do what they want like its no big deal. That's why I hate Miranda. That's the kind of person she is. She does things the way she wants.

She wears crazy outfits that don't match. Her hair is weirder than her clothes. But the freakiest part is that on her, it works. As much as it pains me to admit, it looks good on her.

If anybody else tried to do that stuff, including popular ole me, they'd look utterly ridiculous.

People think she's funky. Personally, I hate that stupid word. Funky. It makes me cringe just hearing it. What is that?

Miranda's not funky, just different.

I wear designer clothes bought with my dearest mother's credit cards. It's the least she can do for me. It's about all she does for me. My clothes are plain and boring. Nice enough to be considered stylish and in fashion, making some of the lesser lemmings envious, but not daring enough to actually make a statement of any kind.

Miranda makes statements. She does what she wants to. Don't get me wrong, she's not some out of control crazed wild child or anything, but she does have a rebellious streak and is willing to try almost anything at least once.

Back when we were friends she always got Lizzie and me into trouble. She would come up with some brilliant idea and beg us to play along, promising us a world of fun in the process.

Lizzie and I were a team. At first we would stick together and say no to her pleas, but Miranda knew how to break us down. She would look at us pitifully with her big brown eyes and pout until we changed our minds. I don't know why we even resisted. We always changed our minds and we almost always wound up in trouble.

The thing is, Miranda was right. I had to give that to her. The fun we had usually outweighed any punishments our parents could have given us. Her ideas were the best, even if her execution left a lot to be desired.

Like this one time when we were eight---Lizzie, Gordo, Miranda and I snuck out of Lizzie's house to go into town for ice cream. Miranda insisted our babysitter, who was busy with her boyfriend on the couch, would never notice and we would be back before anyone knew.

Of course we agreed and of course we were wrong. The babysitter found us missing and called the police. By the time we got back all the parents were frantic. We were grounded for a month.

My mom was furious. She declared Miranda a bad influence and forbid me to see her. This coming from the woman who doesn't have an ounce of spare time for me unless it benefits her to take an interest. But soon she met a new guy and fortunately for me, forgot her own distaste for Miranda. At the time, I was glad.

I never do anything risky now. My friends are boring as hell and the last thing I'm about to do is mess up my reputation to make life more interesting. I need my reputation. I mean Claire's idea of taking a risk is going two weeks without a manicure or cheating on her stupid diet. Big whoop.

Though I would never admit it out loud, I sometimes miss my old life and old friends. Lizzie, Miranda and Gordo. Even though I abandoned them, it still hurts to know that they are as close as ever. The group doesn't need me to survive and obviously never has.

I check my watch. Ten more minutes before this period is over and I can get on with my life and forget all about Miranda and this stupid assignment.

Forget all about the girl who was the first one to jump off the top of the jungle gym and the first to learn to ride a bike without training wheels. Forget all about the girl who couldn't even wait for her dad to take the training wheels off for her. Instead she bribed Gordo with curly fries to help her pry them off and then proceeded to teach herself to ride the same day.

I was the last to learn to ride, even after Lizzie. I didn't want to mess up my pretty party dresses and pretty party shoes. I didn't want to get hurt. I was scared.

That's what ticks me off the most about Miranda. She's fearless, she's not scared of anything and I'm scared of absolutely everything.

Particularly of people seeing through my façade. What if I take it off and forget to put it back on? What then?

I swear sometimes I think Gordo sees through it, like at lunch today. That might just be wishful thinking on my part. I want someone I don't need to pretend around, that I can confide in. He would understand. I just know he would. I was always closest to him. But then I remember, he's Lizzie's boyfriend and Miranda's best friend. I must be imagining things. He has to be on their side.

Ugh...Miranda. Did I mention how much she ticks me off? Perfect example. You would think being lower on the social food chain, she would be scared of me or at least of what I could do to her. She's not. She's fiercely loyal to her friends and stands up to me when I pick on Lizzie, even though she's seriously less than half my size. I could never imagine Claire standing up for me like that. Hell, Claire would probably be the one stabbing me in the back in the first place.

Lizzie will stand up to me occasionally, but with Lizzie you can practically see the effort it takes for her to do it. She wills herself to do it. Miranda just doesn't take crap, especially from me.

Oh, and then there's the time when she was in the school play. She stunk up the stage she was so terrible. The entire school made fun of her with me doing the worst damage of course.

If Miranda got upset, she hid it well. Had it been me, I would have died. Humiliation in front of the whole school is one of my worst nightmares. I wouldn't have been able to show my face, or at least the face I let others see.

I'm the one who practices my cheerleading routine in front of the mirror for hours on end, just so I'm sure that there's no chance of me even messing up one little step. Being out of step is bad. Lemmings aren't allowed to be out of step.

Must be perfect. Must be perfect. It's an alarm that goes off repeatedly in the back of my mind. It's too loud to tune out.

But there was Miranda, back on the stage two weeks later singing a huge solo with glee club. I couldn't make fun of her then. She was too good.

To her if she sucks at one thing, she tries again until she finds something she's better at. She doesn't care if people don't think she's perfect.

The curse with trying to be perfect all the time is you can't ever try anything new for fear of failure. That's my biggest fear. Failure. I'm completely and utterly afraid of failing at anything.

Because my parents are such failures and complete screw-ups, I'm hell bent on proving I'm not. Proving that I'm better than they are. Believe me, it's not hard.

I wonder if Mr. Dig would let me get my paper back. I could take it home and write what I originally intended. Make up some crap about me and how much I love myself and my perfect glorious world.

I shake my head. It's of no use. Mr. Dig isn't too bad as teachers go, but he would know that everything I wrote in the first place was the truth. He'd want to talk about it, discuss my feelings. He'd want me to open up. I'd rather be sick.

As much as I want someone to confide in, I don't discuss my feelings with teachers. That's definitely not cool. What if he called my mom or worse, told my friends?

Lizzie walks into the bathroom, ignoring me. It's time to get back to work.

I toss my hair in her direction and role my eyes at her in the mirror.

"I'm not in the mood for you Kate", Lizzie mutters.

"What?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is something wrong with Lizzie the loser?" I hold a loser sign to my forehead.

Lizzie enters a stall, again ignoring me completely.

I make a mental note to remember it. Something is eating her and it was sure to be something that I could use to my advantage later.

I give the mirror one last look and study my image carefully. I touch my face lightly making sure the façade is back in place, just as it should be. I turn on my heel and flounce out of the bathroom.

I have no choice, I'm just going to have to risk it.


	6. Lizzie's POV

The Assignment 

A/N—Just remember everything I've chosen to do in this story, I've done for a reason. I don't want it to focus on romance too much, because that's not what I meant for the story to be about. But it's inevitable that it will have some relationship stuff because that's a big part of high school life. Enjoy!

Chapter 6-Lizzie's POV

I lock the bathroom stall door behind me, waiting in place until I hear Kate leave. I listen until I hear her footsteps falling faintly away as she stalks down the hall, searching for some new pray. The bell rings. Lunch is over.

Unless I move I will be late for science. For some reason, I'm not moving. I hold my fingers to my temples, rubbing, trying to make the pounding behind my eyes go away.

I've come to a realization today. Something I never thought I'd ever say, let alone even think. That's what's making my head hurt. I want someplace cool to rest my head.

It was when I was doing that essay thing Mr. Dig had assigned. I started to write about Gordo...but I couldn't get into it. So I ripped my paper up and wrote about someone else. And the more I wrote, the more I realized.

I think I'm starting to fall for Larry Tudgeman.

I look around quickly and anxiously, almost imagining that by just me thinking it, everyone else can hear. _Me_? _Falling for one of the_ _biggest nerds in school_? I have a boyfriend. I normally fall for guys like Ethan. How can I feel drawn to someone else, especially someone like Larry!

But that's just it--he's Larry. We have science together this year. He's my lab partner. It's my only class without either Miranda or Gordo.

At first when we were partners I was excited because Larry's super smart and we'd get A's on everything. Plus, he's a nice enough guy. But since then we've spent more time together and have become decent friends.

We were always sort of friends. Well not friends exactly, more like acquaintances. The kind you say hi to in the hallway but never ever hang out with outside school. I was never mean to him like the others, but I used to pity him and feel bad for him. I don't anymore.

I want to scream from the dull ache in my head. It must be guilt. It has to be. I feel like I'm cheating on Gordo even though I've never even touched Larry.

What kind of relationship do we have if I'm attracted to other people? Even before that, what kind of relationship do we have period? Ugh.

He has to notice how distant I've been from him lately; how many stupid little fights we've had over nothing. How lately we've spent less and less alone time and a lot more me, Miranda and Gordo time. It's safer that way, easier that way. Definitely more comfortable like the way things used to be back in junior high.

Gordo's completely amazing---as my best friend. He knows it and I know it, but we hang on to each other. I mean, how does one go about breaking up with their best friend? My heart is not in it anymore, at least not right now. Maybe when we've grown up I'll feel differently.

I leave the stall and sit on the window ledge. The bell rings again. I am now officially late. I am never late. People like me are never late. Today I don't care. I stare out the window and think instead.

It's like my mom was right, as freaky as that is to think. Back in the seventh grade she gave me this whole long lecture about how McGuire women always fall for the boys in odd packages, you know the boys you don't expect to fall for. She used my dad and Matt for examples. I brushed her off at the time.

Not that Larry's odd exactly, okay maybe a little, but in a nice way. Come to think of it, the reason my mom gave me that lecture in the first place was because of Larry. He had asked me out and I went reluctantly, not wanting to hurt his feelings. I acted like a little brat but in the end it had been fun in a platonic non-romantic way. Nobody was more shocked than me.

And truth be told, Larry's grown up physically a lot in the past year. He takes care of himself better, has filled out. He wears clothes others consider normal, instead of just that one same shirt over and over. He's even cute in a goofy sort of way.

Now I don't know what I want. I'm torn. I feel like I'm in one of those cheesy soap operas I watch when I'm home sick.

On the one hand, this Larry thing might just be an excuse to make me face the problems in my own relationship, kind of a warning signal.

But if that were the case, why did I rip up my first essay to write another about my fascination with the Tudge? Why did I have that outburst at lunch when Miranda simply mentioned his name? I knew she didn't mean anything by it but it was like I couldn't control myself. Even I know how weird I'm acting and how much weirder I must seem to everyone else. I don't know how long I can put Miranda off for.

But Larry has so much going for him. Maybe it's not so much a crush, but that I'm envious of him. Envious of his lifestyle and attitude.

It's like as many times as Gordo lectures me and Miranda not to care what people think about us, I know deep down he cares too. I remember the Parker incident all too well. I remember the Rat Pack dance. It's not a bad thing. He's allowed to be human like the rest of us.

Larry's the one person I know who is truly above it. He doesn't care that the jocks and cheerleaders use him as their personal punching bag. It's not even just the jocks and cheerleaders that use him, us so-called regular people make fun of him too. He is an easy target.

That doesn't mean he takes all the abuse; he fights back in his own way. He fights back with dignity and class, never sinking to their level.

It doesn't stop him from doing the things he wants to do. Larry doesn't dwell on it as a problem. He doesn't need the acceptance of the rest of us to value himself. He's confident and manages to turn all that negative energy into a positive for himself, by doing well in school and winning awards and stuff like that.

Just the opposite of me. I have very little self-confidence. I usually need constant reassurance. Though I'm getting better in that department, I could never take the abuse Larry does. I wouldn't be able to hold myself together. I'd fall apart.

Some may think that makes me shallow. Don't worry, I think I'm shallow a lot of the time too, worrying too much about hair and clothes. I want to not care all the time, but it's hard to stop. I think its part of being a teenage girl. It's not that I want the ultimate popularity that Kate has anymore. I'm over that. That was just a phase.

But I can't handle life as an outcast, a sci-fi geek or a loser. Or at least I don't think so. Not that Larry is any of those things of course, at least not to me. He has so much to offer. It's those others who are the losers.

Don't get me wrong, Larry has good friends and all that other stuff. It's not as if he's being stuffed in lockers or beaten up everyday.

It's the emotional beating that he takes that must hurt the worst. It hurts me to watch them hurt him, if that makes any sense at all.

As Larry himself told me once, he likes what he likes and that's good enough for him. He's not about to change that even if his interests are a little out there and away from the mainstream.

He studies astronomy and astrology. He knows about history and physics. I know every word to every Britney Spears song ever released. I can tell you what happened on Dawson's Creek last week. Not exactly an even trade of ideas.

Not that he ever makes me feel inferior. If anything, the opposite. He talks to me like I'm smarter or just as smart as he is. Sometimes Gordo talks to me like a little kid, a ditzy blonde little kid that you have to explain things to over and over. He doesn't mean to, but that's how I feel.

I feel so horrible. I don't mean to bash Gordo, I don't. But in some ways Larry and him are so similar and yet in others so completely different.

Like Larry's not cynical at all and he has the desire to help people, like me. But unlike me, Larry is smart enough to go out and do it. I can picture him one day discovering a vaccine for a deadly disease or saving an endangered species from extinction. He'll win the Nobel Prize or create the next big super technology that changes the way we live.

When I help, something usually backfires. I go overboard and go about things the wrong way. Like the time I tried to save the entire world in the course of a week and instead ended up hurting my family and friends in the process.

I mean well but that's not always enough. Good intentions don't save the world. You have to have the know how.

But what happens now? Do I break up with Gordo and explore my interest in Larry? Is Larry even interested? Am I interested?

And if do, do I become an outcast? Do I then incur the wrath of Kate and the rest of the snobbery at this school even more? Do I even care if I do?

I can't take any more questions. I remove myself from my perch in the window and grab my school bag, trying to find my science homework before I head to class.

Just last week Larry asked me for some advice. Veruca had been pestering him to ask her out, but Larry was unsure. He said he didn't really like her like that and that they were just good friends. Kind of like what Ethan used to say to me.

I didn't push it or ask a lot of questions, but I told him to go with his heart. Do what it was telling him to do. He gave me a look and then I felt it. I got those little butterflies in my stomach that make you feel all nervous inside, the kind that make you all tingly. I hadn't felt those in a long time, a real long time.

Oddly enough, the advice I gave him was the same advice I'd given "Confused Guy" or Gordo as he'd later confessed to me. Larry thanked me and told me he knew what to do. He'd have to turn Veruca down gently so as not to hurt their friendship. For some reason, it made me happy. I didn't think much about it afterwards.

I find my homework and enter the practically empty hallway. I head towards class and smile to myself when I see him at our lab table, the empty stool next to his waiting for me. I mumble my apologies and an excuse to my teacher.

"My fair lady", Larry greets me with an exaggerated flourish of his hand.

"Hey", I say back almost breathlessly. "What'd I miss?" I quickly open my science book to the right page and turn in time to see Danny Kessler throwing spitballs in Larry's direction. Geez, would that kid ever grow up?

Larry leans over and whispers in my ear, pointing in Danny's direction. "One day when we're rich and famous making great contributions to the world, Danny will still be stuck in ninth grade science trying to figure out where it all went wrong."

I laugh. He is right. Did I mention how much I admire his confidence and nerve? He knows what he wants and it's the future that matters. The people that get in his way now, that is something he has to put up with in the meantime. It isn't something that makes him bitter and resentful. In that respect, he reminds me of Gordo.

I glance at Larry and breathe deeply. The pain in my head is starting to lessen and fall away a little bit. I absolutely hate making decisions.

When did things get so confusing?

I think I know what I have to do. I turn my attention to my teacher. I'd have to wait until after school.


	7. Larry's POV

The Assignment 

I sit in science class listening to my teacher lecturing on and on about pressure. What happens when you apply constant pressure to a solid mass? Blah blah blah blah blah blah. Your basic high school science theory.

The question should really be what happens when constant pressure is applied to the Tudge? Will the pressure cause the Tudge to crack? Will the Tudge fold under the pressure? Will the Tudge not be able to handle it? Will the Tudge start going looney tunes?

Mental note to self: Must stop referring to myself in the third person. It freaks some of the less secure beings out. Scratch that---It freaks me out.

I'm a bit off the beaten path, I admit that willingly. Those around here think of me as geeky Larry Tudgeman, voted most likely to become a super evil genius, obsessed with Star Wars and the like, and once ate live worms to get elected seventh grade class president.

Truth be told, I never ate any live worms. It all started as a media stunt I set-up to prove a point to my fellow classmates about the current state of school politics.

Not one person ever doubted that I ate them. They assumed it was something I would do. I didn't. You see, I had a bowl of live worms in a bucket and a bunch of pretty life like gummy fakes I cooked up to actually eat. It won me the election. Go figure. I proved my point.

That was two years ago, before the pressure intensified. When I had more time for games.

Now it's pressure to achieve, pressure to have the best grades, pressure to win prizes, medals, competitions, contests, to win scholarships, to get into college.

I'm only in the ninth grade. I should be having the time of my life. Going to parties, meeting girls, "hanging" at the mall.

Well, not necessarily the mall part. I never really understood what was so intriguing about sifting through racks and racks of clothing or sitting in the food court staring off into space for hours on end. Don't people have anything better to do with their time? I don't even have that kind of time. But I digress...

I copy science notes off the board almost robotically.

It'd be nice to know what it feels like to have no expectations placed on me. No dreams, hopes or bars to raise to the next level or constantly have to live up to. To have no pedestal to stand on.

To be someone like Ethan. Not for long of course. Just long enough to see how the other half lives. I could never give up being the Tudge. I have an identity and persona to maintain after all.

I'd miss Anita, Jeremy and Veruca too much. My friends, my pals, my intellectual sparring buddies, fellow sci-fi freaks, whatever you choose to call them. Anything's fine with me. I don't like labels.

Nobody in Ethan's family puts pressure on him. They don't have unreal expectations for him to fall short of. That is the only role my parental units have of late. That's a fact.

My parents never made it through college. No Tudgeman has. I'll be the first. A bit surprising, eh?

If most people don't know that about me, it's because they never bothered looking. It's no secret. I'm not ashamed of anything.

My family has a lot to show for themselves. It's no secret that my dad manages the local hardware store and my mom dropped out of college when she became pregnant with me. She meant to go back, but it didn't happen. My brother happened instead.

My parents are the pull 'em up by your bootstraps kind of people. They're hard workers who work hard for everything we have. They want for me what they never had, the opportunity. They want to live out their dreams through me.

I want it for me too. But I don't want any old school. I want the best. Harvard, Yale or Princeton. A place to be among the best minds in the country, among people who are focused and driven, above all the pettiness. A place unlike here.

Ivy League schools cost more than blue collar families like mine can afford. The books alone are a pretty penny. I need scholarships. Schools like those don't give academic scholarships. It's hard enough getting in in the first place. That's why I work so hard, bust my butt. I have to find a way to make the cut.

Hillridge is an upper middle class suburb. Big comfortable houses, cushy jobs and spoiled kids who revel in the luxuries mommy and daddy can afford to give them. The Tudgemans aren't poor. We do all right, we have enough to eat and a house we like.

There are lots of people worse off than me. I've been taught never to forget that. But even I myself have been prone to a bout of jealousy from time to time.

When I was younger, before we were separated into different social classes, I'd go to Ethan's house. He lives in a big mansion with maids and servants. His dad, though not the brightest, has been to college and has one of those cushy jobs.

His dad gives him everything. Ethan wants for nothing.

At his house, he had the most toys of anyone I'd ever seen. It was like his own personal toy store. My parental units chose to buy me all the educational type toys instead.

Ethan's dad only wants for Ethan to have fun and be a kid.

I've never been much of a kid. I'm always working and competing for something. It's hard for me to relax and kick back. Adulthood comes more naturally. It's both a gift and a curse.

At first I blew off Mr. Dig this morning and his silly little essay question. It wasn't for a grade. Why should I expend the typical Larry Tudgeman effort if I wasn't getting a grade to put on my college transcript?

But knowing how Mr. Dig has been there for me over the years, I gave it a shot and thought about what he asked. I am blessed in life, but just once I'd love to let loose and lose my constraints. I want to know what it's like to have the tremendous weight lifted off my back. That made me think of Ethan and amazingly, that's what I wrote about.

He's actually one of the few guys at this school who I can genuinely say I like. He's not phony and plastic. Sure he lives in his little bubble of popularity with Kate, Claire, Danny and the rest, but he's never really been one of them. He's never mean or insulting or cruel. A little clueless sometimes, but hey, though I come pretty close even I'm not perfect.

As many times as Danny's come after me or Kate's used me for target practice, Ethan's never been a part of that. He talks to me in the hallway and invites me to his parties, even if I rarely attend. I'm usually busy.

Maybe it's because we were friends once or maybe it's because I saved his life once. Maybe it's a guilt thing.

We were nine and hanging out in the deep end of the town pool. Ethan was staring at some girl like usual. That was Ethan even at a young age. Could you blame him? I looked too, but the difference is with him they looked back.

Ethan wasn't paying attention, hit his head, knocked himself unconscious and it was the Tudge to the rescue. I'm no athlete, but I can swim well enough. If I were an athlete my college career would be set.

Ethan's also a real guy's guy. Though it might sound macho and chauvinistic to the females, he enjoys life without all the major stress and drama. He goes out on Friday nights, plays ball with his buddies and doesn't feel guilty for doing it. My weekends are not my own. I have to stay ahead of my studies. I work odd jobs trying to save up what little bits of money I can.

I want to go out on dates like Ethan. I want to kiss a girl and hold them in my arms and forget all about my future for a few minutes.

I look at Lizzie next to me, arms folded neatly in her lap. The perfect girl couldn't be any closer or more fetching to behold. I think about her often enough. She invades my dreams. She could be my undoing.

But though I'm confident, I'm no Ethan in the dating department. The girls get weak kneed and starry eyed around him. I've never made a girl melt, or at least not to my vastly superior knowledge. Well maybe Veruca...but I don't know if melt is the right word. As she once told me, I'm the only guy in school that doesn't make her sick to her stomach. Not exactly the right ingredients for a budding romance.

According to all the leading psychologists, this is supposed to be the best time of a person's life. From here on out, it only gets harder. For guys like Ethan, that's probably true. He's the normal one. I'm the one who's got it all backwards and mixed up.

For me the best time will be after. After I get my acceptance to the college of my choice, after I get the loans and scholarships secured I need to attend that higher institution of learning. After I'm out of my parent's glaring spotlight and submerged in the world of academia. That's when my life will truly begin.

I'm not worried about handling the work load or making it in college, the part most worry about. I've got that part covered. It's getting there that's the difficult part.

I'm not unhappy now, though I might make it sound otherwise. I think of it all as an important investment in my future.

And I do have fun. I can't forget that. I go to the movies with my crew and we get together when we can. Then there's the sci-fi club I started. The masses think it's dorky, but we do cool things like visit movie sets, read books and go on trips. It's my lone school activity that I do for me and not to impress some faceless dean of admissions. It helps keep me sane.

The bell rings and I hop off my stool, saying goodbye to Lizzie quickly. I need to meet up with Anita and Jeremy before my next class, independent study. I'm helping one of the teacher's with a research project for extra credit. I can't be late.

I scan the halls for my friends, but spot Ethan instead. He's leaning against a locker talking with Miranda. He's got a huge grin on his face.

"Hey Tudgeman", he acknowledges me as I walk by.

I wave at them but have no time to stop.

I steal a look back at the two, laughing and talking—in no rush to get anywhere, obviously enjoying their own adolescence. It's almost as if they're not real, merely characters created for one of those typical high school television shows where all problems are solved within a span of thirty minutes or less.

I check my watch as the warning bell rings. Damn, not enough time to find Anita and Jeremy. I grab my research material and head to class.

I hear Ethan's laugh permeate through the hallway in the distance. I can't help but hear it. It's the same overexcited laugh he used to get when his nanny would sneak us extra Double Stuf Oreos to cheer us up on rainy afternoons.

Some things don't change.

Yes they do. Somewhere along the way we switched places and he became the smart one.

I want to chill in the hallway talking with my buddies, flirting with Lizzie, my arm draped casually across her shoulders.

My teacher comes in. We get to work. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.


	8. Sadistic Teachers and a Heart to Heart

The Assignment 

Chapter 8- Sadistic Teachers and Heart to Hearts

Mr. Dig didn't think of himself as a sadistic teacher for the most part. He was about learning and motivating and supporting his students, molding them into responsible and intelligent adults. But today he wasn't so sure.

He stood before his class, watching his students cram needlessly for the social studies test they thought he was about to unleash on them at any minute. The social studies test he'd announced yesterday.

The social studies test they weren't really having.

Okay, sure Mr. Dig felt bad tricking them like that, but honestly it was a win-win situation for all. He got the kids to learn the material without having to test them and they were going to be relieved when they found out they weren't actually having a test, or at least not a social studies test.

The bell rang signaling the beginning of class.

Mr. Dig took his customary place by the chalkboard and called out over the class. "People people, clear your books from your desk."

The class groaned in unison. "Five more minutes professor?" Ethan begged trying to get in a few more minutes of study time for the class.

"Nope Mr. Craft. No can do today. Books off the desk." Seeing the almost pained expressions on his student's faces, Mr. Dig had a hard time fighting off his laughter. "Listen up, I have a few announcements to make."

He picked up a large folder off his desk and opened it slowly, studying its contents. "There will be no test today, I repeat there will be no test today."

When the class remained silent, Mr. Dig looked confused. He thought for sure they'd be relieved, jumping for joy at this point. No kid likes a test, right?

Miranda raised her hand. "Is this some sort of sick teacher April Fool's joke?" she asked her eyes darting around the room as if waiting for something to happen. "Teachers just don't cancel tests."

"No joke Ms. Sanchez", Mr. Dig assured. "And it's not April Fools."

"But there must be a catch", Gordo pointed out. "With you there's always a catch."

Mr. Dig smiled. The young Mr. Gordon always caught on. "Yes, a little one. While you're not having a test in Social Studies, I thought today might be a good day instead to present your essays to the class. You know, the ones you wrote last week."

The class groaned again. If it was possible, most looked more miserable then when they thought they were actually having the test. It was obvious some had hoped he'd forgotten all about the little project. Especially since he hadn't mentioned it since.

Mr. Dig pulled the essays from his folder. "Most were quite good and quite enlightening. And by the way most of you are avoiding making eye contact with me now, from what I gather, quite truthful."

Kate's hand shot up in the air. "But Mr. Dig. I studied for a test. I cancelled a manicure to study for the test. I don't study. Why don't we just have the test today and save that stupid little assignment thing for tomorrow?" she tried to reason.

Danny and Claire shot her looks. Since when would Kate rather take a test? Better yet, since when did she cancel a manicure to study?

Lizzie tentatively put her hand up in the air. "I kinda agree with Kate. Maybe we should have the test. We're prepared and all. Right?"

Mr. Dig shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd live to see the day my students begged me for a test", he said causing a few of his less stressed students to break into grins.

"But no worries Ms. Saunders, Ms. McGuire...we'll have the test next week." Both Kate and Lizzie's faces fell at the news.

Mr. Dig clapped his hands and rubbed them together for effect. "But in the meantime, let's get started. He paused and looked around. "Who here is brave enough to face the firing squad and read their essays aloud to the class? This isn't for the faint of heart", he warned.

Several hands entered the air. Some shot up while others straggled behind. By the time they were done Parker, Claire, Ethan, Danny, Veruca and Miranda's hands were raised. After what seemed like a particularly long and harrowing inner struggle, Larry's hand raised to join the others.

"Good", Mr. Dig nodded, himself not overly surprised with which students had volunteered themselves. "Parker, why don't you start us off and when you guys are done I'll get to reading the rest of the essays, unless anyone should change their mind."

Parker rose and walked confidently to the front of the class, taking her paper from Mr. Dig. She started to read. "If I could be anyone else, I wouldn't. I would choose to stay myself, Parker Laine McKenzie, faults and all..."

Mr. Dig looked around the room. Judging by the looks on his student's faces, this was going to be a long class, but an interesting one. He just hoped it would all be worth it.

Lizzie sat in shock, unable to move from her chair. Her entire body felt heavy. It was as if her legs were made of stone and jelly all at the same time. On top of that, her mind was reeling. What had just happened? 

A sharp voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Class is over for today", Mr. Dig boomed out gesturing to the empty desks around her. "The bell rang."

"I...I knew that", Lizzie stammered. "I just didn't want to get caught in the stampede for the door."

Mr. Dig looked at her worriedly. "Uhh, Ms. McGuire. The bell rang over five minutes ago. But I figured I'd let you sit for a few. I know you must have a lot to absorb."

Lizzie gathered her books and clutched them to her chest while she focused all her energy onto standing. It was harder than it looked, but her legs seemed to be a bit sturdier now. She smiled at Mr. Dig as best she could. "Yeah...uh...I've got to get to lunch."

"If you ever want to talk", Mr. Dig assured her. "I'm always here."

"Me too", another voice answered softly from the doorway. Lizzie whipped around to see Miranda framed in the doorway, biting her lip nervously.

Mr. Dig looked from one to the other, assuming however correctly that they needed to talk, and excused himself politely from their company.

"So, are you mad at me? About all the things I said?" Miranda asked pointedly. She wasn't about to beat around the bush and she needed to know how Lizzie had taken everything.

"No, not mad", Lizzie said honestly. "Just stunned. I never knew you felt that way. Did you really mean all that stuff?"

Miranda shifted her own books in her arms and locked eyes with her friend. "C'mon, this is me we're talking about. When do I not say what I mean?" she deadpanned.

A small giggle escaped Lizzie's lips, but soon died as her mind still tried to process. "I know I know, but when you were talking I kept looking around the room, expecting to hear Kate and everyone laughing, especially when you talked about _me_ being popular and like, the envy of every girl."

"And what did you see?" Miranda prodded, pretty sure where this was going.

"Nothing", Lizzie finished, the shock still evident on her face. "I mean no one was doing anything but listening."

"That's because it's true McGuire. They all know. Even Kate. I'm starting to think she knows a lot more than we give her credit for", she nodded matter of factly.

Lizzie smiled cautiously, her confidence starting to build a little. She was feeling more and more like herself. "Really? But about that part when you talked about being the unnoticed twin, I never meant to make you feel like you were..."

"Of course you didn't", Miranda cut her off. "I know that."

"If anything", Lizzie confided. "I've spent the last several years trying to be more like you. Why else do you think I always go along with your crazy plans?

Now was Miranda's turn to be surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah", Lizzie giggled. "I always thought I was boring. You weren't". Lizzie paused. "So, you really think I'm popular?" Lizzie asked, needing to hear it again.

"Yes", Miranda assured her rolling her eyes. "But don't let it go to your pretty little head or they'll be no living with you", she joked.

Lizzie smiled broadly. "What, me?" she said giving Miranda a little twirl that ultimately caused her to trip over her own feet and wind up sprawled on the ground.

Miranda reached down to help her up. "I also said you were a klutz", she said trying to speak through the bouts of their uncontrollable laughter.

Taking a deep breath and brushing off her pants, Lizzie's tone again turned serious. "Seriously though, thanks...I'm sorry I got weird and stuff, but it's just so strange sitting there listening to someone say all this amazing stuff about you, even if it is your best friend saying it."

"For a few seconds there McGuire I thought you were going to explode you were blushing so hard", Miranda laughed, but she too turned more serious. "But I know what you mean. Like all that crazy stuff that person wrote about me. Just plain weird."

The girls both laughed and exited the room carrying their belongings towards their now empty row of lockers. Lunch had already begun.

"Whoever it was though described you perfectly. Maybe you have a secret admirer? Do you have any ideas who it was?" Lizzie asked fiddling with her locker combo.

A smirk played at the corner of Miranda's mouth. "Not sure, but I've got some leads. I mean there was some stuff in there---well let's just say it has to be someone I've known for a long time."

"Like who?" Lizzie urged, shoving her books in her locker.

Miranda shook her head silently, for once thankful of Lizzie's obliviousness. She took her lunch money from her backpack and stuffed it in her pocket. "Not saying or at least not until I have proof."

Lizzie, though she meant to listen had zoned out. Her mind had somehow finally managed to grasp what Miranda had been trying to tell her but it was causing her mind to race faster and faster. If she really was what they said she was, then why had she spent the past several years caring so much and trying so hard? Wasn't it about time she got to do what she wanted?

"Earth to Lizzie", Miranda said waving her hand frantically in front of her friend's face. "You okay?"

Lizzie came to. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About?" Miranda asked shutting her locker.

"A little of everything", Lizzie answered generally, shrugging her shoulders.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Miranda asked, unsure of Lizzie's reaction. There was something still a bit off with Lizzie even though she couldn't place exactly what it was.

Lizzie looked at Miranda and smiled as if coming to a realization herself. "Actually, I do. I think I'm finally ready. But not until tonight. I have to talk to Gordo first. I owe him that much. But then I promise to explain all to you."

Miranda's mouth fell in shock. "Are you breaking up with Gordo?" she half exclaimed and whispered all at the same time.

Lizzie slapped her arm to try and keep her excitable friend quiet. "No...yes...maybe, probably, I won't know until after I talk to him. I'm going to ask him to meet me at the Digital Bean later."

Miranda shook her head sympathetically, absorbing it all. She knew that whatever her friend was going through to make her contemplate something like that was pretty big. Lizzie was always the first to hide from confrontation, not face it head on.

Lizzie took in Miranda's expression and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She slung her arm around her friends shoulder as they started on their way to the cafeteria. "Look, I wish I could tell you more now, and there's a lot to tell, but you've already helped me more than you'll ever know. Okay?"

"I guess I can wait", Miranda added. "But you better call me first thing when you get home", she threatened. "Or else!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. She was feeling better than she had in months. Like a huge weight had been lifted off of her and she hadn't even done anything yet.

"Or else what? You're going to send your big bad boyfriend Ethan after me? Oh Ethan. Kiss me Ethan. Hold me Ethan", Lizzie teased as she made kissing noises in Miranda's direction.

With that Lizzie started to run, knowing that her friend would soon be chasing after her.

"You are so dead McGuire!" Miranda called after her as the two ran breathlessly into the cafeteria.

As Miranda grabbed a plate of chicken nuggets she tried to defend herself. "If I wasn't so hungry, you'd be a goner by now. And Ethan isn't my boyfriend..._yet_", she finished, grabbing a can of soda and managing to pay the lunch lady.

"Sure", Lizzie rolled her eyes and followed suit, herself grabbing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The two headed to their usual table, which was unoccupied.

"But", Miranda continued. "I am going to his swim meet after school. He says I bring him good luck, whatever that means."

Lizzie picked at her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and giggled. "I can't wait to see the look on Kate's face when she sees that."

Lizzie and Miranda glanced in Kate's direction just as Kate herself happened to look up. Kate scowled and stuck out her tongue. Lizzie scowled back, but Miranda simply looked away.

Miranda couldn't look at Kate right now. If what she was thinking was right...

"I don't know why I ever bother helping her", Lizzie muttered. "And what's with you? You never let Kate get off that easy."

"Have you seen Gordo?" Miranda asked, desperately changing the subject. "It's not like him to skip lunch."

Lizzie waved it off. "He's probably just catching up on some homework, either that or avoiding me."

"Knowing him its just homework", Miranda said reassuring her friend. "Hey, come to the swim meet with me after school, before you go meet Gordo. There's nothing better than half naked guys to take your mind off things. But Ethan's off limits", she warned. "He's mine."

Lizzie smiled. Ordinarily she'd take Miranda up on her offer, but there was something else that she'd been wanting to do. "Actually, I heard there's this debate thing after school. I was thinking of checking it out."

Miranda looked at her oddly. "Since when are you into debate?"

"Since recently", Lizzie defended herself. "I argue with Matt all the time and besides, it'll be good for college applications."

Miranda shot her another look. There had to be more to this.

"I think it'll be fun", Lizzie replied almost dreamily.

Miranda studied her friend who was now positively beaming. She'd seen that look on Lizzie's face before. First with Ethan, then with Ronnie, then Frankie and most recently with Gordo. It was a guy. It had to be a guy. But who was he and better yet, why didn't she know about it?


	9. The Odd Couple

The Assignment  
  
So by now I know most of you have forgotten all about this little story since I haven't updated in a really, really long time. I've just had a combined case of writer's block and lack of motivation. I know what I want to happen for the most part, but I can't seem to get it down on paper. And once again I lied, I think there is one more chapter after this.  
  
Please review. I love hearing from you guys and any constructive criticism would be great.  
  
**************  
  
Chapter 9- The Odd Couple  
  
Gordo shuffled his feet as he slowly made his way to Hillridge High's third floor. He was in no rush to get where he was going, or rather in no rush to find whom he was trying to find.  
  
He checked his watch. Twenty minutes of his lunch period had already been wasted. By now, Lizzie and Miranda had probably sent out a search party looking for him. And still, Gordo had made no progress. Zero. Zip. Nada.  
  
Gordo had been all over the building, checking out all of his usual haunts. The gym, the cafeteria, the weight room, the football field, the locker room (both girls and guys). . .basically any place relating to either sports, food or the opposite sex.  
  
And Ethan was still nowhere to be found. Frankly, Gordo was running out of places to look for the jock and quickly losing all desire to talk to him if and when he did find him.  
  
He sighed as he reached the top of the stairs, not sure where he was heading. His eyes roamed the hallway, stopping briefly on a set of double doors not too far off.  
  
It was the school library; a place where Gordo had spent many hours poring over books or just thinking. Usually the latter of the two. The place was quite useful actually. It was peaceful, calming, relaxing. A welcome change from the mass hysteria of the rest of the building.  
  
He walked towards the library, chuckling to himself. It was worth a look. He couldn't imagine Ethan ever hanging out there, willingly, but he had nothing to lose. And if he wasn't there he could always check to see if the new Spielberg book had hit the shelves.  
  
Gordo shook his head to himself, still chuckling. The chance of finding Ethan Craft in the school library was well, like the chance of finding Larry Tudgeman smack dab in the middle of the football field scoring the winning touchdown. Not likely.  
  
Approaching the open set of doors Gordo peered in, glancing around at the mostly empty study desks brilliantly lit by the overhead fluorescent lights. The place seemed so desolate, so lonely. Almost sad. Is that why he liked it so much?  
  
He turned on his heel. He didn't need any more depression in his life.  
  
Gordo was about to leave when a familiar hearty laugh rang out from the back corner. Though the source of the noise was blocked from his view, he knew that laugh. He knew it well. But it couldn't be, right? It just couldn't.  
  
But as Gordo approached, the larger blonde boy came into view. Ethan was sitting at a back corner desk, alone, with his lunch on one side of him and an open textbook on the other. He was no longer laughing, but reading.  
  
Reading. Ethan Craft was reading. . .voluntarily. What was up? Was Gordo in some sort of alternate reality? It was common knowledge Ethan was the dumbest guy in school! Maybe even in all of Hillridge!  
  
Okay, okay, so Gordo knew that he was exaggerating, but it was pretty close to the truth. He felt his conscience swell as he remembered why he'd come to look for Ethan in the first place and what had taken place only the period before. He felt horrible, like he was going to be sick to his stomach. Was this what he'd become? Someone does something genuinely nice for him and he makes them into a joke.  
  
But he was so used to Ethan being the punch line to his jokes and the direction of his sarcasm for the past several years that it was just a natural reflex to take potshots at the guy whenever and wherever possible.  
  
He had to face it. Miranda was right. He was turning into a bitter old man at the age of fifteen. A grumpy bitter old man. . .  
  
"Gordon", a call came out stopping his current train of thought. He looked up. Only one person ever called him that. He was caught.  
  
"Hey Ethan", he nodded, approaching the table cautiously, making sure to keep his voice down to avoid the odd stares of the other few students and teachers scattered around. "What's going on?"  
  
"Not much little man", Ethan said giving the chair across from him a little kick and motioning for Gordo to sit.  
  
Gordo smiled awkwardly. Despite wanting to talk to Ethan, or needing to do it, he always found himself having a hard time when they were actually face- to-face. To be perfectly blunt, they didn't have a lot in common and Gordo had always found himself at a loss for words when conversing with Ethan.  
  
"No, that's okay", Gordo said, shaking his head. "I'm not staying. Besides, I don't want to interrupt you from studying or anything."  
  
Pushing his science book out into the open, a sly smirk crept over Ethan's features. He pulled a rumpled golf magazine from its covers. "Just a front my man. For the Profs. Makes me look good when they came strolling by", he nodded knowingly towards the nearest one, which so happened to be their science teacher. "I need all the help I can get."  
  
"Good ploy", Gordo noted, a small smile creeping across his own features. Now this was more in line with the Ethan he knew. "But what are you doing spending your lunch period in the library? I thought it was your favorite class", he said half sarcastically.  
  
Pushing his book and golf magazine aside, not noting the sarcasm, he turned to look at the smart little dude. "It is", he said simply before pausing.  
  
Ethan was carefully weighing his words. He wanted to say more, but he didn't want to come off sounding all stupid. "Sometimes, you know, a person needs a little space to make sense of stuff. Quiet time to sort things out in here", he answered honestly, pointing a finger to his head.  
  
Gordo felt a second pang of guilt shoot through him. All of a sudden, Ethan sounded not so completely clueless. After all, wasn't most of Gordo's life consumed by his thinking or rather, over thinking absolutely everything? It's what he did. He could relate.  
  
"I know what you mean", Gordo offered. "I can go if it's a bad time."  
  
"No, no. Its cool Gordon, sit", Ethan urged him as he stuffed the last few French fries from his lunch tray into his mouth. He had been thinking. Hard. About all sorts of things. Things like his swim meet after school, Miranda coming to the meet to cheer him on, Larry's social studies essay he read in class. . .that was really mostly what was on his mind. He had a hard time believing that Tudgeman, the super brain of the entire school, wanted to be more like him, the super dummy of the school. Though he tried to understand, Ethan simply couldn't. It was making his brain hurt. He was about to give up trying when Gordon came by.  
  
Ethan watched as Gordo sat, his hands running over the smooth wooden tabletop, as usual his mind running at a hundred miles an hour. Gordo had that look in his eye. The one he got when he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out of his mouth. It would be up to him to start the conversation.  
  
"Where the ladies at?" Ethan asked.  
  
"Ladies?" Gordo asked looking puzzled, before finally making the connection. "Oh, uh, Lizzie and Miranda. They're in the cafeteria. But I was looking for you."  
  
"For me?" Ethan asked, his eyes widening a bit. This day just kept getting weirder and weirder. Gordo never sought him out. "What for little man?"  
  
"I, uh. . .uhh", he started unsuccessfully. "Uhh. . .I just wanted to umm. . ." What was happening to him? He was sounding like Lizzie used to when she tried to stand up to Kate. Gordo pinched himself, hard, causing him to wince in pain.  
  
Ethan shot Gordo a strange look. "You wanted to what? Are they showing some more Hitchcock classics over at the Wilco, cause I could totally go for seeing The Birds again. It was so cool when they were all chasing the one dude and. . ."  
  
Gordo had to snap out of this. "Thanks", he blurted out, cutting Ethan off mid sentence. "I wanted to thank you for all that stuff you said in Mr. Digs class. It was pretty cool of you." There, that was better. All out in the open. They could go on with their lives and Gordo wouldn't have this huge wave of guilt hanging over his head anymore.  
  
Ethan looked Gordo in the eye. He had meant what he wrote, even if he also sometimes found himself a bit jealous too. But he hadn't expected Gordo to thank him. That wasn't his style. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah", Gordo said, clearing his throat and trying to appear nonchalant. "I didn't expect it, but it was very, very cool even if I don't deserve most of what you said."  
  
Ethan couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Believe me dude. You've got everything going for you. The brains, the lades, style. . .everything. Don't be so down on yourself."  
  
"Me?" Gordo said loudly in disbelief, causing some dirty looks from students at surrounding tables. This was just too rich. Ethan received constant attention from almost every female in the school and always had, including his girlfriend Lizzie. He had his name plastered in the sports section every time Hillridge won a game or championship or tournament. And Ethan thought he had everything? He had to be smoking something.  
  
Shrugging, Ethan paused. "Yeah", he said. "For a smart guy you're kind of dense sometimes. My life might look all perfect like, but it's not that simple you know."  
  
"Same here", Gordo nodded, agreeing with Ethan for perhaps one of the first times in his life. He rose from his chair. "Definitely not simple. If you only knew. . .", he trailed off, stopping himself before he said anything remotely stupid. Getting along with Ethan was one thing, confiding in him was another.  
  
But Ethan couldn't contain his enthusiasm. "Knew what?" he asked eagerly, almost falling from his chair. This sounded juicy and deep and the kind of thing that nobody ever told him. Did Gordon need advice? He could help if someone let him, or try to.  
  
"Umm, nothing", Gordo finished quickly, pushing in his chair. "I got to uh, grab some lunch before the bell. Thanks again. Maybe I'll catch up with you in science."  
  
Though Ethan tried to cover his disappointment, it was evident on his face. "Oh", he said simply. He had been so close. Reluctantly, Ethan smiled. "Catch you later Gordon", he said waving before reaching out to return to his dog eared golf magazine.  
  
But Gordo was glued to the spot. He had seen Ethan's reaction. Did Ethan really look up to him that much or was he just a really, really lonely guy? Before he knew it words were flying out of his mouth, ones that he hadn't fully thought through. "Uh, Ethan. . .I was thinking that umm, maybe next time I'm working on a new film or something, you might want to help out. I could always use an assistant or another camera man, since you're into the classics like me."  
  
Ethan looked up at Gordo, trying to keep his cool, but it was too difficult. He grinned from ear to ear. "Sounds cool. I love that stuff Gordon. As long as I don't have to act and like walk and talk and stuff. Thanks. See you later."  
  
Gordo nodded and headed for the door. Something told him he'd quite possibly just made the biggest mistake of his life inviting Ethan Craft into his world, but then again, maybe not. Maybe he really was more than just good hair. 


End file.
